Rural Gone Urban: The Blog

{blogger's note: The title of the post has been updated thanks to a suggestion from my friend Brent. He's pretty legit... you should be his friend, too.}
Last night I was telling he-who-hasn't-been-named a random story about my little brother. Oddly, I used his actual name. By his, I mean my big-little brother.

Me: This one time Will and I went to the movies to see... (insert irrelevant story)
He-Who-Hasn't-been-Named:: Who is Will?
Me: My brother?
He-Who-Hasn't-been-Named:: You have never used his name, ever.

Is that weird? That's using my little-big brother is not a typical habit of mine?

Little tidbit about me: I don't like hugs. It's true. I'm more of a high-five kind of girl. People in my personal space just really creeps me out.

However, this guy, he gives the best hugs. Mostly, because I know he hates hugs as much as I do.

And it was confirmed that the day I checked him out of school to go sledding (really happened, folks) was worth the investment when he lets me lean on him at funerals.

Also, parents, don't put your college-aged child on the list to check your other kids our of school if you think there is a chance they could abuse it. Because they will. I mean I did. It was all in the name of securing my spot as Best Sister Ever.

Anyway, my big-little brother has a name. It's Will. Well, except that phase when he was 3 or 4, then it was Clyde. Different story for a different day.